Omicron 7
by seroth
Summary: Sorry if it seemed I spammed you guys with my chapters...I am a newbie after all. Bret Copeland and a rag tag group of refugees aboard an infested command center struggle to attain freedom an sanity out of a bleak existance.
1. Default Chapter

Omicron 7:  
  
Chapter 1: Lost Rights  
  
Six longs months of scrounging around the garbage. Six long months of sleeping in dark corner. Six long months of running and hiding not knowing when your last day will come. What do you think that would do to a person mentally and physically? For Bret Copeland it has been a nightmare that he wishes he can awaken from. But everyday his life seems to run in the same direction. It wasn't always this way though. He could remember when he was back home. The nice cool mountain air by his house. The large lake that semi surrounded his cottage, where he would go for a quick dip here and there to escape the summer heat.  
  
In his dreams he could see his beautiful wife wearing her white satin dress that she loved so much. He could picture her turning around as he called her, her long brown hair flowing around her shoulders. And her smile was so beautiful a man would lay his life on the line to rescue her. This woman was so beautiful just by looking at her you would have no choice but to believe that God existed and he truly modeled her from a special clay. But she chose to be with Bret. He saw himself as the luckiest man on earth, until the unlucky day that it was time to go to battle against the forgotten enemy.  
  
He could still see her tears and hear her voice pleading him not to go. But there was nothing he could do about it, as an enlisted UED special reserve, he had to go.  
  
The next thing Bret heard was the rude awakening of a scream in the night jarring him form his long needed slumber.  
  
Thinking in his head "They must have found another one."  
  
This went on for what seemed like forever. When would it end? How would it end? Would it be quick an painless like Samuel who made the mistake of letting his stomach take over his brain and in the search for food he was decapitated by one of them. Or would it be slow and excruciating like Victor who was caught in a pincer strike while trying to make it to an escape pod. Bret could still hear his screams echo through the hull of the ship as the beasts tore him apart limb by limb starting with his feet and saving his head so that he could see everything.  
  
The few that did remain scuttled about the ship like scared rats. Kept out of the way and well hidden. I really don't think many knew about one another. However, inevitably the day would have to come when they would reach Char and the painful end by the Zerg.  
  
Bret could still remember the day that their command center was infested. He was on a recon mission with his partner Jim Rounds to check out the perimeter. You see they had just arrived at a planet in Quadrant six that was thought to be uninhabited. To their surprise two months prior to their landing the Zerg arrived and put a strong foot hold in the planet. By the time they got there the entire planet that was known as Praxton 3 was fully infested by the Zerg.  
  
The third evening that Bret and Jim had bed down for the night in the command center was just like any other, plain, hot and dark, when the alarm sounded. It seemed that the Zerg planned a sneak attack in the middle of the night. Oh the sound of gun shots still ringed in his head as he heard men and women scream in agony and pain.  
  
"Fall back!" said the commander. Right before his torso was slit in half by an Ultralisk.  
  
The crew tried to make a run for it by lifting off the planet but it was too late the Zerg Queen had made her way to the bridge and began to spread her ooze all over the ship. As the ship was slowly covered with red and green slime it began to short circuit and fizzle. The walls turned sticky as a sent of green spores began to travel through the air of the ship.  
  
Bret twitched in his sleep as he saw the faces of the men and women when the spores entered their nostrils. The sounds of choking and screaming as the men and women fell to the ground convulsing until they became horribly disfigured, almost looking like zombies, then the tendrils emerged from all over. The, now, mindless creatures only mission was to destroy anything that was non-Zerg by exploding in a blast of blood and intestines.  
  
At first the blood curdling screams erupted every night but after the ship lifted off to head for Char the cries in the night slowed down to only a few a nights. Then it eased to one every other day from those who could not handle the pressure.  
  
Bret knew there were others still alive. He saw a few from time to time feeding on garbage and dead Zerg. But they vanished in an instance after eating. Some people had even turned to cannibalism to stop themselves from starving, but survival was the only goal in all their agendas. They all hung on to a hope that one-day they would be saved.  
  
The first of, what would have probably been, July their prayers were answered. It was early in the morning when a refugee ran past Bret's hiding spot screaming. Right behind him was a Hydralisk coming at high speed. Bret turned to brace himself for the horrible scream of death that was soon to follow. But he heard nothing.  
  
A few minutes later he heard a sound that he had never heard before. Curiously he squirmed and wiggled his way to find out what happened. Slowly he wiggled and carefully he moved into, what used to be the mess hall area. The next thing he saw brought joy and happiness to his heart.  
  
The man had killed the Hydralisk without any weapons and was standing over it passing meat out to a group of refugees. Bret had never seen so many people in one space since the slaughter started. He decided to hide back though. He did not know what to expect from these people. It would be best to stay in the shadows and watch.  
  
He heard the name Desmond Wright thrown around like it was Jesus Christ himself coming to save us from damnation. With a silent hand this great Hydralisk slayer motioned for everyone to move out. Bret was overwhelmed by this and with a new relief made his decision to find out about this new leader.  
  
Bret followed them very silently throughout the ship. Down the shoots and underneath the pipes he slid trying to keep up. The truth of not having sufficient nourishment slowed him down greatly. He slid and crawled until he reached the dark dank bottom hull of the command center. He pushed and crawled until he could not see anything.  
  
There was a familiar smell of rotting flesh in the air. His new found determination made him press on to find this man. Where this drive came from only god would know but it was there and it had to be appeased. He crawled on and on until he came to a grate in the floor of the deck above him. Peering through he could hear the wonderful sound of human laughter.  
  
He decided to follow the same plan as before and just listen. The sounds he heard were not of scared men. No scared men would be cowering in corners worrying about their next meal. These men were strategically plotting something . . . something big.  
  
Bret could not hear the conversation but he saw the man that he has been crawling through the canals and pipes to find. Bret was so inspired by this site that he did not see the zergling slowly approaching his scratched feet. 


	2. Omicron 7: Chapter 2

Omicron 7:  
  
Chapter 2: Lost and Found  
  
"Are you sure!"  
  
"Yeah, I'm positive."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"I remember my last detail before this all happened. Since I wasn't a "spec ops" they didn't allow me to go in. But I knew what they were up to. And that day when I was on the run from those three I knew I passed it. I thought it had been destroyed when we were taken, but it's fully functional."  
  
"Hmmm . . ."  
  
"It could be our only chance."  
  
"It sounds too risky to me."  
  
"Who asked you? It's up to the Lieutenant, not some . . ."  
  
"Enough! In this desperate time ranks do not exist. We will only go if everyone agrees."  
  
"You have kept us alive this long. I have total faith in your leadership. You can count me in."  
  
"I agree, everyone here has put you on a pedestal including me. I'm in."  
  
"Man I just know we are gonna die! But at least we will die fighting like we are supposed to. I'm in."  
  
"Then it is agreed. The spores are still high in that area, we need to . . ."  
  
The sound of pipes bending and claws scratching filled the room. The scratching and clawing became louder and louder. Without a word the group of four dispersed. Moving in all directions, they vanished into the air ducts and bent metal in the walls. What could be causing that sound? Whatever it was everyone was sure that it was trouble and no one wanted to stick around to find out.  
  
***  
  
2 hours later  
  
"Who do you think he might be?"  
  
"I have no idea but judging from the condition of his leg. I'm sure that if we had not have come along he would have been a goner."  
  
As Bret's eyes opened the light burned like fire, Bret had not looked into light for as long as he can remember being a refugee on this lost vessel. Matter of fact he was quite used to the darkness. It helped him move in and out without any detection.  
  
"What's your name solider?"  
  
It had also been awhile since he spoke any words. It was like speaking a new language for the first time. Forming the words with your lips then passing the winds through the proper cords in your voice box until they reached your lips. Man was this hard for him to do.  
  
"I think we might have a mute sir."  
  
"A mute? In the UED . . . I think not solider!"  
  
"I tell you sir he can't talk."  
  
As the man knelt down, Bret caught the glimpse of a skinny frame and a rugged face that has probably seen more pain than he has.  
  
"What's your name son?"  
  
The words had to be there for Bret. He pushed and pushed the winds past the chords that would make sound in his throat but nothing came out. Has it actually been that long since he uttered any words to anyone?  
  
"Well son my name is Hal Clayborne. I was once Sergeant in the Omicron siege division."  
  
"Told you sir he's a mute."  
  
"Shud up private! Ok son, take it easy. We thought you were toast by the way that zergling was chewin on ya but after we killed it ya moved. So we brought you back here."  
  
Oh the pain Bret felt as the wind passed through his vocal chords. Was it pain from talking or was the pain coming from his mutilated foot.  
  
"Br.et Cope."  
  
Those were all the words he could muster before the shock kicked in and knocked him out. Just before everything faded he caught the last few words of the siege sergeant.  
  
"Take it easy son your gonna be ok here."  
  
***  
  
"Please Bret, we just got use to the idea of being free."  
  
"I have to go. It's what I signed on for. It's how we were able to afford this place"  
  
"Then resign, I can't bear living without you. I would rather live on the street."  
  
"Please don't say that. I will be back before you know it."  
  
"Bret if you love me . . . if you love the life we have. Please don't leave."  
  
"It's just a routine TDY it will be over before your know it. I will be back and after that we can start that family that we planned."  
  
"Oh Bret . . . do you promise?"  
  
It was like a wonderful dream. She was there holding him feeling safe and warm in his arms. He could almost feel his arms running over her smooth tanned skin. It was almost too much to bear to leave her behind. All he kept hearing in his ears were the last words he can remember.  
  
"Bret . . . do you promise?"  
  
***  
  
16 Hours Later  
  
"Hey! You dead yet?"  
  
Waking up he could see more clearly in the dimly lit area. There were broken lockers, some hanging by one hinge and other slung wide open. On the walls the tiles had fallen in a lot of places leaving the bear brown wall with a little spackle left to symbolize that once this wall was once complete. From what he could tell, he was laying on a makeshift gurney composed of wood and rocks.  
  
"Where am I?" uttered Bret.  
  
"Your safe, I guess at one time this was the shower room area. What's your name?"  
  
"Bret . . . Bret Copeland"  
  
"Well Bret everyone was betting that you would be dead by the time I got back here. I'm glad to see they were wrong. Too many of us have been taken already."  
  
"How long have I been out?"  
  
"Oh about 16 hours or so. It looked really scary for a second because you lost a lot of blood. What happened anyway?"  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"They call me 'Slim' but my real name is Warren McKenzie. I'm probably the last medic on this rust bucket. After the Sergeant saved your butt they brought you here for treatment."  
  
"So how is our mystery man doing?" boomed a deep voice from in the shadows.  
  
"He's fine sir. The bleeding has stopped so he should be back on his feet in no time."  
  
"You mean foot don't you? Doesn't matter though we will probably need all the help we can get."  
  
With a weak tone Bret was able to converse with the shadowy stranger. Maybe now he would be able to find the strong leader he was following. Only one way to find out he guessed.  
  
"Where can I find Desmond Wright?"  
  
"What the hell would you want with him?" demanded the voice "I didn't think cannibals cared about names just as long as they ate."  
  
"That's enough Jason!" shouted another voice from behind  
  
"Yes sir!" answered the man as he stood at attention  
  
"Don't let Jason get to you. He is more bark than bite. So this is the mystery man everyone wants to bet on."  
  
"Who are you?" uttered Bret  
  
"I'm the person you have been asking about. The question is what do you want?"  
  
"Desmond Wright?" His voice beckoned out as he tried to focus his eyes on the shadowy figure.  
  
Before a conversation could ensue another figure appeared and with a few whispers in Desmond's ear the three shadows vanished into the darkness. All Bret could hear were the two words.  
  
"It's time." 


	3. Omicron 7: Chapter 3

Omicron 7:  
  
Chapter 3: The Right Stuff  
  
"Lieutenant!"  
  
"Yes Sergeant?"  
  
"It was just as we thought sir."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes sir. Recon came back about an hour ago, the section has a few dents but other than it's unbreached. The spec ops must have made the area out of some hard metal, the creeps can't get inside."  
  
"Has Jason found a way around the coding unit?"  
  
"Yes sir. He is on standby, as soon as we are close enough . . ."  
  
"Good. And what did recon have to say about opposition in the area?"  
  
"That's the bad news sir. Since that is the only part of the ship the creatures haven't ransacked they have had five zerglings and two hydralisks ripping at it constantly."  
  
"I could remember when those numbers would mean nothing to our army."  
  
"Sir! What are your orders?"  
  
"We move out in two hours. No matter what, we must get into that room."  
  
"Yes sir!" With a quick salute at attention and an about face, Sergeant Clayborne rushed to make preparations.  
  
Inside the, use to be, locker room lay a tired and weary man. Bret Copeland had been through so much and has lost everything. It probably wouldn't matter at all if a zergling comes in right now and chews him ragged. He was tired and weary of living. Lying there just looking up at the flickering dim bulb on the ceiling, he wondered about life itself. Was it supposed to be so tough? Were you supposed to die without being happy? Bret thought to himself for a second about all the things that had transpired over the long months. He wondered why he should go on. In a memorable flash he saw Desmond Wright lead his men to victory over the zerg hydralisk and he remembered what it felt like to have that vigor and faith in a leader. Seeing this kind of leadership allowed him to return from his morbid state.  
  
"I have to talk to him!" He said to himself as he tried to stand on his one good leg.  
  
Being able to focus his eyes further he could see that Slim had encased his leg in a make shift splint. No matter how secure his leg was it hurt like hell. Nevertheless he would have to try and walk on it, but the problem was getting up. Hopping and falling all over the place he slammed into locker upon locker as his attempts at walking became more frustrating, Bret finally got his bearings and stability and began to walk. He began to make his way into the shadowy corridor where Desmond went a few hours ago.  
  
"Where do you think you are going?" boomed a voice from the corner.  
  
"Who's there?" he demanded as he felt around in the dark.  
  
The stunning effect of a fist to his gut, made Bret drop to his knees and gasp for air.  
  
"You don't worry about who is there!" said a husky voice from the front "Did you think that I would leave you unguarded?"  
  
Looking up Bret could see that it was the man Desmond called Jason.  
  
"Cannibal scum like you don't deserve to roam free around this station! I have had an eye on you since you were first brought here."  
  
"I am no a cannibal." Bret said in a choking voice as he tried to suck air in from that last blow.  
  
"Then why were you in the cannibal sector?" demanded Jason as he landed a fist across Bret's face.  
  
"Enough of that!" sounded a soft voice in the shadows.  
  
As the words faded a slender, athletic figure emerged out of the shadows. Bret thought it was an angel. yes it had to be an angel, finally come to take him away from all this torture and pain. Focusing further he could see that although this woman was beautiful as an angel her demeanor was that of an assassin, more like a heartless ghost. He had seen the ghosts always doing drills on Praxton 3 before the attack happened. Yet he had never really seen what they could do.  
  
"My job is to watch him and make sure he doesn't hurt anyone. You compromise my mission and I will take you out myself."  
  
With that the massive man turned and walked out with his fists clinched and his lips muttering obscene phrases under his breath.  
  
"Thank you." said Bret as he tried to rise to his feet once again.  
  
"Don't thank me. You hurt anyone in this group and I will finish what he started."  
  
With that the deadly woman faded into the dark corridor leaving him alone in the dank room.  
  
-------------------------------------  
  
2 hours later  
  
A dark feeling crept through the souls of the group of men sneaking down the corridor. Some knew that the day would come when their lives would be lost. They figured that out months ago, when the incident happened. Just dying like a bunch of cockroaches running in the night was not enough for these men. To prolong their lives, they hid from the spores and the deadly zerg crawling around the ship looking for a meal. They lived in fear and hate at what cards destiny had dealt them, with no hope of salvation in sight. It was not until one man rose from the ashes to help them. In Desmond Wright they found hope, they found a chance to go on. But most of all they found a way to go out the way they would want to. in combat. He had an aura of determination about him. No matter how bad things got he was always able to pull them out. This is what made him Lieutenant of his squad on Praxton 3. And with little doubt, that is what made him leader of the refugees.  
  
Right now the group depended on his leadership so much that they would follow him into the depths of hell if he asked them to. Today he asks them to follow him to what could be glory. Desmond had come up with a plan, but for it to work he would have to make it down the elevator shaft. The problem is that the elevator shaft may still contain spores. Reason being that it was sealed off to stop the spores from spreading. If the spores had found a different route then they would be gone but if not . . .  
  
Desmond was not sure if this plan would work but he had no choice. Armed with makeshift spears of steel, glass, and shards of crystals the band of men made their way down the slimy corridor. The walls had been covered with a slimy ooze that just pulsed as they passed by. If you looked closely enough at these popped bubbles of slag, you can still see the remains of marines that did not make it. Forever encased in this grimy substance until the acids in the sludge melted away their bones and cloth.  
  
Trying to keep a steady stomach, from the damp putrid smell of rotting flesh, the group pushed on. Some men could not hold their stomachs any longer and bent over to cough up the little food they had taken in before the mission started. Most of the men had dry hacks and it felt as if fire was erupting from their throats and stomachs. For those who could not make it just returned back to the hiding spot. Desmond could not be mad at them; after all he was asking them to sacrifice everything.  
  
Those that stayed were urged to move on. As they passed the south passage the light became dim. It was very hard to see your hand in front of your face, yet these men pressed on. They were used to the darkness. Sometimes the darkness was what helped them escape death. It had become their brother.  
  
Upon reaching the elevator shaft the group took a rest. Some wondered why the area was so quiet. Usually by now zerg would be all over looking for a snack. Not wanting to stick around to see what happened, the men got back on their feet and pressed on until they were at the doors to the elevator.  
  
The ragged doors were sealed shut but bared the marks of battle. Bullet holes and claw marks were everywhere. The rustic silver panel that was once used to call the swift transport was now black and gray wires sparking in the dim hallway. Using a make shift crowbar one of the men struck the opening of the door. Bracing his foot on one end of the outer door and his back on the other, he pulled with all his might. Without words another man joined. The two straining men had almost given up when the door cracked.  
  
"GAS!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
"Everyone cover your faces!"  
  
In a spread of panic the men scattered in different directions from the green spores erupting from the shaft of the now open elevator. The spores spread for a few inches then died down. Seeing that the spores were not spreading any further, Desmond took it upon himself to wrap his face in thick cloth and make his way slowly to the open shaft. Slowly he inched towards the rickety door taking small careful steps. As he brushed by the, now green floor, his steps pushed the spores into the air. Not noticing this event he continued onto the open shaft. Looking in he could see clearly that the spores that came out were just remnants of what was left inside the elevator shaft. Looking downward he could see darkness in the shaft. Look upward he could see a dim flickering light, which signified the bottom of the elevator that was once used to shuttle them around the ship.  
  
With a quick motion, Desmond turned and motioned for the group to rejoin him.  
  
"Make sure to secure your masks boys!"  
  
They continued onward through the green dust and into the compartment. Using thick cloth the group descended down the shaft to the third floor. Prying open the door they could hear the clicking and crunching sounds of zerg.  
  
"Ok boys from here its absolute silence."  
  
With humped backs and spears in hand the group made their way through the corridor. The clicking and crunching was getting closer. It was time to put Desmonds plan into action. 


	4. Omicron 7: Chapter 4

Omicron 7: Chapter 4: Call to Duty  
  
**COUGH**cough**  
  
"Williams shut up! What are you trying to do get us killed?"  
  
"I don't feel so good."  
  
"Well maybe you shouldn't have eaten your last ration so fast."  
  
"How much longer do we have to wait?"  
  
"Shut up! Desmond has a good idea lets give him some time."  
  
"Hey Jones.do you ever think about what you are gonna do if we get outta here?"  
  
"What type of stupid question is that? Of course I do!"  
  
"I tell you what Jones the first place I'm going is that female prison colony on Nebus. You know they are desperate there. I haven't had a woman forever."  
  
"You never could get a woman even when then were desperate Lester."  
  
"Shut Up Biggs!"  
  
"Ok you both shut up! I think I hear something."  
  
The sounds of laughter died as the echo of footsteps came closer to the group.  
  
**COUGH**  
  
"Someone gag Williams with something."  
  
Within a blink of an eye Desmond ran past the group screaming at the top of his voice. Behind him was at least five zergling and hydralisk in full pursuit.  
  
"Ok boys here he comes get ready. NOW!"  
  
Shiny sticks tipped with hard crystal stuck out of the walls and ceilings and into the bodies of the running zerglings and hydralisk. One of the hydralisks, corrosive acid sacks ruptured and sprayed over the walls. Within seconds one of the men fell to the ground as half of his head melted away. With the drive of built up aggression, spears jabbed and probed into the bodies of the zerg party. Protruding eyes, throats, and guts were seen by the entire group. The howling screeches could be heard throughout the halls of the old rustic level. And all at once the screams slowed then dimmed and finally died.  
  
With a celebration of victory the men rejoiced over taking down the group of zerg. Cheers of celebration were something this group was not used to. Without warning a zergling jumped through the group. And spun into attack position with something in it's mouth. They men quickly took up arms. Looking closely they could see Lester's blood soaked face being gnawed on by the little creature. The beast scratched and clawed at the ground as it prepared for the second assault.  
  
Lester's body still stood firm for a few seconds before falling over. Without any other hesitation Desmond grabbed a spear and threw it into the side of the creature. A scream of pain erupted from the monster as the spear made contact. Nevertheless the beast sprung into the group. Scattering like cockroaches, when the lights come on, the group took off in all directions. They crawled into ducts, underneath pipes, and into broken lockers. Desmond stood fast against the creature.  
  
"Desmond run for your life!"  
  
The words passed through his ears like a child being told not to touch something. Desmond had a look in his eye. It was a look the group had never seen before. It was a stare that meant he was at the end of his rope and it mattered not what was decided today. All he knew was that he was tired. Tired of hiding and losing men due to bad orders or traps. He was tired of this constant fear of life and death. But most of all he was tired of not being able to fight back. Well not this time, not this fight. I was all or nothing, life or death. With pure rage in his heart he stood toe to toe with the zergling.  
  
As the creature sidestepped to pick a perfect angle Desmond shuffled around the hall. The creature took angles of attack from the walls jumping from side to side using leverage and momentum to gain a better thrust but Desmond would evade and duck at the last minute before it struck. The rickety spear bent and twisted in the creature as it moved from side to side. Desmond knew he had to reach it. It was his only hope of winning. All attempts seem to fail as the beast would snap and claw every time Desmond showed any offensive.  
  
The zergling struck and jabbed at the tired refugee cutting him in the arms and mid section. Desmond fell to the ground in pain as the gashes opened. Seeing it as a sign of weakness the creature leaped for the final strike. The group could only close their eyes as they waited for the sound of inevitability. Desmond was not ready to die just yet, he rolled over to avoid the final strike but was caught in the leg by one of the claws. His leg twisted and pulled as he tried to get away. Siliva began to drip from the creatures' mouth, as he could taste his next meal. The beast hissed and snarled as he slowly came closer to the fallen warrior.  
  
It was all over. It had to be, no ordinary man could stand this much pain. But then again Desmond was no ordinary man. As the zerglings claws came to bear down on the Lieutenants chest, Desmond rolled ripping himself loose from the claw inside his leg. Ignoring the pain of a broken leg, he spun over the creature and grabbed the spear.  
  
Howling the battle cry of a noble warrior killing his prey, Desmond picked up the creature using the spear and slammed it against the wall. The halls filled with the echoes of his scream and the zerglings torment. Desmond could not. no he would not let go. The creature twisted and grinded against the wall as the walls became soaked with green bile from the creatures intestines. In one last word of victory Desmond thrust forward once more cracking the wall as he screamed. Then all was steady and quiet.  
  
Covered in green and red blood Desmond held tight to the spear as he pulled if from the carcass of the defeated zergling. With nothing else left to give Desmond fell to the ground. 


End file.
